Droon's Paintbrush
by Lysana
Summary: Sequel to "The King's Stilts." When King Birtram lost his stilts, he got sad and grumpy. The King's advisor, Lord Droon, was ALREADY sad and grumpy. So I did the math and wondered: What might Droon have lost, and when? And what might happen if he got it back? Little Betty, the youngest cook in the Cat Kitchen, wondered the same thing. So one day, she brought Droon a special gift...


_**Dedication:**_  
_For the people of Artimé... like me._  
_And for the people of Quill... like Droon, who should have been an Unwanted._  
_But then, we all should._  
_(Yes, that was a reference to The Unwanteds, by Lisa McMann. Seemed to fit.)_

* * *

The kingdom of Binn was a happy little place. But there was one spot in Binn that was _not_ happy. It was not happy _at all._

This was an old, abandoned house at the edge of town. On the door of this house was a sign that said "MEASLES." The door was held closed with a big lock and a heavy chain. In front of the locked door sat two Patrol Cats on guard, day and night. And imprisoned inside of this dreary house was the only unhappy person in all of Binn.

The unhappy person was an old man with a sad, scowling face. He was never allowed outside of that house. He did not really have measles. The sign was just to keep anyone from visiting him.

This man's name was Droon. He used to be called Lord Droon, when he worked for King Birtram and lived in the castle. But no one trusted him to be Lord of anything anymore. So now, people just called him Droon, and they booed when they said his name. They booed when they passed the house where he was locked up. They booed whenever they even _thought_ of Droon.

None of those things happened very often. Still, it was a lot of booing for people who thought they were happy.

You see, Droon was a person who had done some very bad things. Because of this, no one in the kingdom had a problem with him being punished this way.

No one, that is, except for one person.

Little Betty was the youngest of the Cat Kitchen Cooks. This was a very great honor, and Betty was proud to work in the Cat Kitchen. It was an even more important job than working in the King's kitchen!

This was because the Cat Kitchen was in charge of feeding the most important animals in Binn. Those were the Patrol Cats. There were one thousand of them, and they were very fierce and strong. All of them, except the two who guarded Droon's prison, were responsible for chasing away the Nizzards.

The Nizzards were the big, wild blackbirds that always tried to eat the roots of the Dike Trees. Stopping the Nizzards was very important, because the Dike Trees held back the ocean that circled Binn on three sides. If the trees ever fell, the ocean would sweep in and flood the kingdom.

A few days before Betty was hired to work in the Cat Kitchen, that almost happened. It was a very scary time. The kingdom of Binn was almost destroyed, and it all happened because of Droon.

The way it started was rather unusual. Weeks earlier, Droon had stolen King Birtram's stilts. That was a very bad thing, because the King LOVED to play on those stilts. Without them, he got sadder and sadder. He felt too discouraged to do his job. Without the King's attention, the kingdom of Binn started to fall apart. The Patrol Cats stopped doing their jobs too, and the Nizzards circled closer and closer to the Dike Trees.

Eric, the King's page boy, tried to help. But Droon had him locked up in the house with the "MEASLES" sign. Luckily, Eric was able to escape and return the King's stilts just in time to save the day.

After the kingdom was saved, King Birtram decided to punish Droon by locking _him_ up in that house. And he never let Droon have anything to eat but Nizzards. Fried, stewed, or roasted Nizzards, day after day. Except every other Thursday, when they gave him Nizzard hash instead.

"Ugh," Betty said to herself one day, when she had been working in the Cat Kitchen for about two months. "I don't think I could eat those things at all! Especially the Nizzard hash. It sounds disgusting."

Then Betty frowned. "But what if I had no choice?" she asked herself. "What if I didn't have anything else to eat?"

The more Betty thought about it, the more unhappy she got. "If I wouldn't want to eat Nizzards every day, then why should anyone have to? Even old Droon. But what can I do about it?"

Finally, Betty had an idea. Every day, the King would come to the Cat Kitchen and inspect the fish they were going to cook. Only the very freshest, finest fish would be served to the proud Patrol Cats. And there was always plenty of fish left over that was _almost_ as fresh and _almost_ as fine. So one day, after work, Betty decided to cook some of that extra fish herself and take it to Droon.

"This fish isn't fresh enough for the Patrol Cats," she said, as she packed the cooked fish into a basket and covered it with a cloth. "But it has to be better than Nizzards."

Instead of going straight home from work that day, little Betty took a small, crooked path that led to the edge of town. Her shoes clattered on the round, bumpy cobblestones. She walked quickly, sometimes skipping, sometimes running. If anyone had known where she was going, they might have been worried. But no one asked, and Betty went quickly on her way until she got to the only unhappy house in Binn.

When she got there, she stopped. How was she going to get past the Patrol Cats? How was she going to get in through the locked door? Then she remembered how Eric, the king's page boy, had escaped from this house. She looked up. Sure enough, the window on the second floor was still open. And right under the window, there was a tall, skinny tree that was just right for climbing.

But why was the window open, when Droon was a prisoner?

"Droon is an old man," Betty said to herself. "He's probably too old and stiff to climb up or down that tree. That must be why no one has bothered to lock the window." She smiled. "But _I'm_ not old and stiff! I'm going to climb that tree and go right in the window!"

Betty didn't want the Patrol Cats to see her. She wasn't scared of them, but she knew they weren't supposed to let anyone in to visit Droon. So she carefully circled around and snuck up to the other side of the tall, skinny tree. The Patrol Cats were watching for people coming straight up to the door, and they didn't notice her.

Quietly, Betty slid the handle of her basket over one arm. She grabbed the trunk of the tree and quickly started to climb it. In a moment, she was up at the window and pulling herself inside.

Everything inside the little upstairs room was gray and dusty. No one had cleaned it in a long time. Betty shook her head. She didn't like it, and she was pretty sure that Droon didn't like it either.

She went down the narrow, twisting stairs and soon found herself in the main room of the house. It was just as dusty and gray as the upstairs. Droon was sitting there with his back to her. He looked bent over and sad and very, very old. On the table in front of him was a dish of fried Nizzards. Someone had just brought him his dinner.

"Excuse me," Betty said timidly. She had never talked to Droon in person before, and she wasn't sure if he was going to be mean to her.

Droon's head shot up. He sat up straight in his chair and turned around, scowling at Betty. "Who's there?" he said, sounding even angrier than he looked. He stared at Betty, and his scowl got even meaner as he saw her bright blue dress and her short, happy-looking pigtails. "What are you doing here, little girl? No one comes here. Not unless they're bringing me more Nizzards."

"Um... I..." Betty tried to answer. She was feeling even more nervous now. Droon _was_ being mean to her! She thought of leaving, but then she wouldn't be able to give him the fish. And even though he was scowling at her so hard, he still looked so very sad. So Betty stood her ground, but she was still feeling tongue-tied and wasn't able to really answer him.

Then, Droon's nose started twitching. He stared at the basket that Betty was holding. "What do you have there?" he demanded rudely. "That smells like FOOD. And it does not smell like NIZZARDS. What is it?"

Betty finally managed to find her voice. "It's fish, Your... I mean, Lord... um, Droon," she said awkwardly. "I cooked it for you. It's almost as fresh and fine as the fish for the Patrol Cats."

"Fish?" Droon exclaimed. "Give it to me!" He got up from his chair and hurried stiffly over to Betty. He grabbed the basket in both of his hands. Betty shrank back, feeling scared, but Droon only snatched the basket from her and went back to the table. He sat down and pulled the cover off the fish. He threw the cloth onto the floor and sat there staring into the basket.

"Mmmmm!" he said with his back to Betty. "Fish! I haven't had anything to eat but Nizzards in two months!" He took the knife and fork from his plate of fried Nizzards, then flung the plate itself to the floor after Betty's basket cloth.

Pieces of fried Nizzard landed everywhere. Drumsticks skidded across the floor. One of them slid to a stop in front of Betty's feet. She picked it up and sniffed it. Then she quickly dropped it again. "Ugh!" she said quietly. "It's even worse than I thought!"

By now, Droon was quickly devouring the fresh, roasted fish. In a few minutes it was all gone. Betty watched as he picked the last little pieces out of the bottom of the basket and ate them.

Then, Droon turned around in his chair. He looked surprised when he saw Betty still standing there. "Are you still here?" Droon asked, sounding angry and confused. "What do you want?" Then he scowled again. "Oh. I suppose you want your basket back. Here. Take it." He flung it at her, and it landed in front of her feet next to the fried Nizzard drumstick.

Betty bent over and picked up the basket. "Thank you," she said, even though Droon wasn't being nice at all. But she didn't leave. She just stood there and stared back at him.

"Now what?" Droon asked her, scowling even harder.

"Droon," Betty asked him slowly, "have you ever smiled since you got here?"

Droon stared at her, too shocked to even scowl. He thought back over the last two months, remembering day after day of doing nothing but eating Nizzards and sitting and waiting for time to go by. "No!" he said. "And I'm glad I haven't. What a question! Smiling spoils the lines of the face. The mouth should turn _down._"

Betty looked at him sadly. Two whole months without smiling! It was hard for the happy little girl to even imagine it.

"Well," she finally said, "I'll bring you some more fish tomorrow."

The next day, everything happened the same way. Betty cooked the fish, brought it to Droon's house, sneaked in, and gave it to him. Again, he took it rudely and ate it without thanking her. But at least he gave her back the basket, even though he was mean about it. And when Droon was finished eating, Betty asked him:

"Droon, have you ever smiled this year?"

Droon stared at her. He thought back over the past year. Day after day of watching the King run around on those ridiculous stilts. Day after day of watching the King having _fun,_ in front of all the townsfolk, acting like a little child instead of a grownup.

"No!" he said. "And I'm glad I haven't. What a question! Smiling spoils the lines of the face. The mouth should turn _down._"

This time, Betty felt even more sad. No smiling for a whole YEAR! It was too horrible even to think about.

"Well," she finally said, "I'll bring you some more fish tomorrow."

The same thing happened again the next day. Betty brought Droon his fresh, roasted fish, gave it to him, and waited for him to eat it.

"Droon, have you ever smiled since you went to work for the King?" Betty asked him, when he had finished his dinner.

Droon stared at her. He thought back over all that time. Day after day of bringing the King his piles of royal papers to sign. Day after day of waking up at four-thirty in the morning, so he could be ready to bring those papers to Birtram, who woke up at five. Day after day of doing his job, never having fun, and wondering why other people couldn't be just as responsible.

"No!" he said. "And I'm glad I haven't. What a question! Smiling spoils the lines of the face. The mouth should turn _down._"

Betty almost couldn't believe it. She'd been sure that _sometime,_ at least ONCE in all those years, even sour old Droon must have smiled! But he hadn't. Betty shuddered from head to foot when she thought about it.

"Well," she finally said, "I'll bring you some more fish tomorrow."

The next day, everything was mostly the same. This time, though, Droon didn't come to snatch the basket away. He sat in his chair and let her walk over and set it down in front of him.

"Here you go," Betty said. She stood in front of Droon instead of behind him this time, while he ate his dinner.

When he finished and handed her the basket, almost nicely this time, Betty smiled at him. "Thank you," she said. But he didn't answer her, and he didn't smile back.

"Droon," she asked him after a moment, "have you ever smiled since you grew up?"

Droon stared at her. He thought back over all the years of his life, since he grew up. Day after day of being responsible. Day after day of doing his work, all day long, and never doing anything else. Day after day of acting like a grown-up and doing only what he was supposed to do. Day after day of never having any fun, because THAT wasn't something a grown-up was supposed to do AT ALL.

"No!" he said. "And I'm glad I haven't. What a question! Smiling spoils the lines of the face. The mouth should turn _down._"

Betty looked at him and almost started crying. How could ANYONE not smile in ALL THAT TIME? It was longer than little Betty had even lived!

"Well," she finally said, "I'll bring you some more fish tomorrow."

The next day, Betty brought Droon his basket of fish as usual. She set it on the table for him and stood right by him as he ate. He scowled ferociously at her, but he didn't try to chase her away.

After Droon finished, he handed Betty back her basket. This time, he even bent over to pick up the cloth he had dropped on the floor. He handed that back to Betty too.

Betty smiled at him. "Thank you," she said politely.

"Hrrrmph!" Droon said. But he still didn't smile, and he still didn't say she was welcome.

Betty stared at him for a long moment. Slowly, her smile faded.

"Droon," she said anxiously, with tears in her eyes, _"have you ever smiled in your life?"_

Droon stared at her. He thought back over the time when he was a boy. Day after day of behaving himself. Day after day of doing exactly what his parents said. Day after day of going to school, and coming home, and doing his homework and his chores, and going to bed. Day after day of never, _ever_ doing anything he wasn't supposed to...

"No!" Droon started to say. Then he remembered something else.

There had been a time, a long time ago, when Droon didn't think the corners of his mouth should always go down. There had been a time when he thought it was FUN to have fun. There had been a time when he did something he loved.

"Yes," Droon said quietly, sounding angry and sad and very, very tired. "I smiled when I was a little boy. Now go away!"

Betty's knees felt weak with relief. Droon really _had_ smiled in his life! But she saw that he was angry, and she thought he would like to be left alone for a while. So she put her little cloth in her empty basket and got ready to leave.

"Good night, Droon," she said. "I'll bring you some more fish tomorrow."

That night, as Betty was getting ready for bed, she wondered about what Droon had said. "Why would he smile when he was a little boy," she asked herself, "and then stop?"

When she brought Droon his fish the next day, Betty looked around and found another chair in the corner of the room. She pulled it over to the table and sat down across from Droon.

The sad old man looked at her in surprise. But he didn't tell her to get up. He just scowled, shook his head, and ate his dinner. This time, he didn't even drop Betty's basket cloth on the floor. He just set it on the table next to the basket. When he was done, he put the cloth back inside the basket and pushed it across the table to Betty.

"Here you go," he said gruffly.

Betty's face lit up in a bright smile. "Thank you, Droon!" she said.

He stared at her for a minute. "Well?" he asked her, when she didn't leave right away. "What do you want?"

"Droon," she asked slowly, "why did you smile when you were a little boy?"

Droon thought back to when he was little. He remembered the reason he used to smile, long ago. He remembered doing the thing he loved more than anything else.

"I liked to paint pictures," he said very quietly. "I smiled when I painted. But I stopped painting, and then I stopped smiling."

Then his face got mean and angry again. "And it's a good thing, too!" he said harshly. "Smiling ruins the lines of the face!"

Betty didn't know what to say.

"Well," she finally said, "I'll bring you some more fish tomorrow."

The next day, Betty sat down at the table with Droon again. She waited until the old man finished his dinner and then asked him:

"Droon... why did you stop painting?"

Droon closed his eyes and didn't look at her at all. He thought back to the time when he learned to behave. He thought back to the time when he learned never to have any fun.

Betty sat there for a long time, waiting for him to answer.

"My parents told me it wasn't responsible," Droon said at last. His eyes were still closed. His voice sounded very, very sad. "They told me a good little boy shouldn't waste his time with painting. They said it was ridiculous, and worthless, and that I was wasting my time and I should spend it doing other things."

He stopped talking for a minute. Betty was just starting to wonder if she should leave, when Droon said:

"And they told me my paintings weren't even any good."

Droon opened his eyes and looked at Betty. "So I stopped painting," he said. "And I stopped smiling. And I'm glad I did. Smiling ruins the lines of the face." But he didn't look glad at all.

Betty thought that SCOWLING was what was REALLY ruining his face.

"Well," she finally said, "I'll bring you some more fish tomorrow."

Late that night, Betty had an idea. "I'm not _just_ going to bring Droon fish tomorrow!" she decided. "I'm going to bring him something else too." She got up out of bed, tiptoed to her closet so she wouldn't wake up her family, and got something out. She carefully wrapped it in an old towel and set it beside her bed. Then she got back into bed and went to sleep.

The next morning, Betty took the bundle with her when she went to work at the Cat Kitchen. And when she got done with work for the day, she picked it up again. She carried it along with her basket of fish, all the way to the house where Droon was locked up.

When she got inside, Betty gave Droon his dinner of fish and sat with him while he ate it. When he was finished, she got out the little bundle from her closet and handed it to him.

"What is this?" Droon asked her. "Dessert?"

"No," Betty said. "It's something better. Open it!"

Frowning, Droon unwrapped the faded old towel. His eyes got very wide when he saw what was inside of it.

Lying on the towel in front of Droon was... a paintbrush, and a set of paints, and a thick roll of blank, white sheets of paper.

Droon stared at the things for a few seconds. Then he looked up at Betty. His face was very angry, and even more confused. "Why did you bring me this?" he demanded. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

Betty's lip trembled. "I thought you might want to paint," she said.

Droon scowled at her so hard his eyebrows pulled together. "Why would I want to do that?" he scoffed. "Painting is a waste of time."

"No, it isn't," Betty said quietly. "It's fun! And I bet your paintings were beautiful."

"They were stupid," Droon said. "They weren't beautiful at all. They were completely stupid. Now go away, will you?"

Betty picked up her basket and stood up. "All right," she said. "Well, I'll bring you some more fish tomorrow."

Droon looked at her, wondering if she would take away the paints. When she didn't, he pushed them to the side and covered them with the towel.

For the next three days, Betty brought Droon his fish and sat with him while he ate it. Every night, the towel and the hidden paint set were still in exactly the same place on the table. But on the fourth day, Betty found something different.

Instead of just sitting at the table and waiting, Droon was staring at a piece of paper in front of him. But the piece of paper was not white. It was not blank.

It was gray.

Droon looked up at Betty as she walked up to the table. "Well?" he demanded. "It's stupid, isn't it?"

Betty's eyes lit up with excitement. She set down the basket of fish and stared at the paper. "You painted!" she said. "But what is it a picture of?"

For once, Droon didn't grab the basket of fish right away. Instead, he got up and carried his gray painting over to the wall. He held it up, then moved it away again.

"It's a picture of this part of the wall," Droon said.

Betty looked at the solid gray paper. A picture of the _wall!_ That was a sad, boring thing to paint, she thought, and she couldn't imagine how it could ever make anyone smile. But it was a _painting!_ And it did look exactly like that part of the wall.

"It's a very good picture of it," Betty said encouragingly. "You got the color just right! Why don't you hang it up?"

Droon looked completely shocked. "Really?" he said. "You don't think it's too bad?" He looked at his painting. "I guess it's okay..." he said slowly. He didn't smile, but he wasn't scowling, either. "All right, let's hang it up. Can you find a pin?"

Betty rummaged around in an old chest of drawers by the wall. After a moment, she found a whole handful of pins. "Here you go," she said, handing one to Droon. "And look, we have a lot more pins! Now we can hang up more pictures, too."

"Who says I'm going to paint any more pictures?" Droon muttered. But he took the pin and hung up his plain gray picture on the wall. He stood back and looked at it. Other than the curling edges of the paper, it looked just like the wall behind it.

"See?" Betty said. "You really did do a good job!"

A whole week passed before Droon painted another picture. This time, it was a picture of a dish of stewed Nizzards. Steam was rising from the dish, and it looked truly horrible. But it was a painting! And what was more, it was a really GOOD painting of a horrible dish of stewed Nizzards.

"You don't think I did very well this time, do you?" Droon muttered. He was looking off to the side, away from Betty. He looked like he was trying to hide.

"Yes, I do!" Betty said. "You made that steam look so real! And the stewed Nizzards look so horrible, I can almost smell them! Ugh!"

Droon looked at Betty in disbelief. He didn't smile. He just looked confused. But he took a pin from her, and he hung the painting up on the wall next to his other one.

The next day, Droon already had another painting finished. It was a picture of the old chest of drawers, with the handful of pins sitting on top of it.

"That's amazing!" Betty said. "It looks just like it!"

Droon didn't smile. But he didn't look miserable either.

Day after day, Betty kept bringing fish to Droon's house and sitting with him while he ate his dinner. Some days, he had paintings to show her. Other days, he hadn't painted anything at all. But when he did paint, his pictures were getting brighter and brighter. They were still always pictures of sad, dreary things, but each time, they got a little less sad and a little less dreary. And each time Droon painted a picture, Betty told him how wonderful she thought it was.

"Really?" Droon would say. He never smiled, but he was starting to look less and less sad. And he almost hadn't scowled in a week.

The walls were getting more and more full of pictures. Betty had to bring more pins from the Town General Store. She had to bring more paints and paper, too.

One day, Betty also brought two big sponges, a broom, a mop, and a lot of soap. "Such bright paintings should be in a brighter house!" she declared. So Betty and Droon started cleaning the old house from top to bottom. Betty stood on Droon's shoulders and swept the ceiling. They took down the paintings and swept the dust from the walls. Then they put the paintings back up again.

They found an old bucket and mixed up some soapy water. They scrubbed the dust from everything in the whole house, until the dusty water ran out in a little, bubbling gray stream under the front door. The Patrol Cats outside were surprised, but they didn't worry about it. They just stepped aside to keep the muddy water from getting on their paws.

Finally, the whole house was bright and gleaming inside. Betty and Droon washed out their sponges, poured out the last of the soapy water, and rinsed the bucket. Then they stood back and looked around. Everything looked fantastic. It almost didn't look like a prison anymore.

And then, Betty and Droon looked at each other.

They were a dreadful sight. They were muddy from head to toe. Both of them had splotches of mud all over their faces, splashes of mud in their hair, and patches of mud all over their clothes. Their shoes were so muddy it was hard to tell they were even shoes.

Betty looked at Droon. Then she looked at herself. And then she started laughing.

Droon looked at Betty. He looked at himself. He didn't laugh, but for just a fraction of a second, he almost smiled.

The next day, Droon had a special painting to show to Betty. When she saw it, she laughed again. Droon had painted the two of them, standing face to face and staring at each other, covered in gray, dusty mud.

"It's fantastic!" Betty said.

Droon stared at her for a very long time. "It _is_ pretty good, isn't it?" he finally said. His shoulders went up. His eyes got brighter. He drew a deep, Lordly breath - the first one in years. And then, very slowly, he smiled.

Betty stared back at him for a second. Then she started grinning. "You're smiling!" she said. "It ISN'T ruining your face! You look HAPPY!"

Droon was startled. He almost stopped smiling, but he didn't. He just smiled harder than ever. It made his face look even happier, and it definitely didn't ruin any of the lines.

"I guess the corners of my mouth should go UP!" Droon said.

After that, things were very different. Droon started painting all the time. Betty had to bring more and more paints and pins and paper. The Head Clerk at the Town General Store started to ask her what she wanted them all for.

"I'm buying them for a friend," Betty would always say.

Droon started smiling more and more too. Sometimes, he even laughed. His paintings weren't all sad anymore. He was painting all kinds of things. Rainbows, and animals, and pairs of sturdy boots. Kittens and turnips. One day, he even painted a picture of his own face... SMILING.

Soon, every wall inside of Droon's prison house was covered with paintings. Betty started taking the new ones outside. She hung them on the outside walls. She hung them on the roof. She even hung them on the door and on the window frames. One day, when she couldn't find a spot for a particularly nice picture of her fish basket, she hung it right on the "MEASLES" sign.

People going by the house started to notice. "What are all those paintings doing on Droon's house?" a baker said. "Where did they come from?" a cobbler asked. Some people even said things like, "Those paintings are pretty good! I wonder who made them? Do you think it was Droon?"

Everyone was so curious about the paintings that they forgot to boo when they passed the house. They even forgot to boo when they said Droon's name!

Soon, people started to say that if Droon was painting all these pictures, he couldn't be all that bad. And after a while, King Birtram himself came to the house. He issued a Royal Pardon for Droon, and unlocked the big lock on the front door with his own hands.

"I'm sorry I locked you up," King Birtram said. "I got mad at you, and I thought it was the right thing to do. But it wasn't." He smiled, looking around at all of Droon's paintings. "I'm glad you've found something _happy_ to do!"

Droon smiled back. "I am too!"

And Betty, standing next to her friend, smiled the very hardest of all.

**~ The End ~**


End file.
